


a study in thorns and ambrosia

by reveneration



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War, complicated feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-10-28 00:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveneration/pseuds/reveneration
Summary: When the dust settles and the war is over, Felix is confronted with what comes next for him. His feelings for Sylvain and his friendship with Dimitri are topics he isn't ready to approach. Healing is more than battle scars and broken blades, but the ability to be open again. [Explicit in later chapters]





	1. leaves in the winter

> _We are buried in broken dreams_  
_We are knee-deep without a plea_  
_I don't want to know what it's like to live without you_  
_Don't want to know the other side of a world without you_

**[Before The Battle of Enbarr]**

Felix can feel his heart hammering in his throat and threatening to break the dam on his composure. He marches down the entrance hall and holds up a hand when Ashe approaches with a bag of supplies, heading straight for Mercedes as she exits the medical wing. “Where is he?” he demands. “The boar said he was to be brought to you.”

“You shouldn’t call Dimitri – Yes, he’s inside.” Mercedes nods toward the doors. “He’s alright. He’s fortunate the blade missed anything major, but he’ll need a few days rest. I wouldn’t - Felix!”

He steps around Mercedes and shakes off the hand she lays on his arm. “He can sleep when he’s _actually _dead. Thank you for your work.” It’s the most he offers before pushing the door open and locating the room where Sylvain is, sitting up and flipping through one of the books Byleth had a habit of leaving around. _Resting my ass_ he thinks with a sense of feral relief, edged with an anger he hasn’t felt in a long time.

_“He died like a knight.”_

“Sylvain.”

Even his grimace is infectious, his eyes always open to whatever he’s feeling and boyishly kind in a way that war would usually snuff out. “Felix.” His mouth tilts into his confident smile and he shifts to sit up straighter, wincing when the movement pulls at the wound on his side. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“You… You reckless, irresponsible, careless, inconsiderate, thoughtless… you!” Felix kicks the door shut behind him, refusing to take his eyes off Sylvain. There’s a panic rising in his chest and he jabs a finger toward Sylvain as if it will lessen the tight coil around his heart. “You’re weak! You’re pathetically weak and you’re trying to protect me? You always -”

Sylvain lifts a hand and makes a dismissive gesture. “That’s six insults in one breath. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter, does it? You’re safe. You can go on living.” Sylvain looks down to his wound and makes a dramatic sigh. “Even if I, your saviour, d-”

“You aren’t going to die! I won’t let you!” It’s childish, really, to think he could ever stop death. Perhaps it’s even more childish he’s letting Sylvain’s flippant attitude get so deep under his skin. All Felix has known in the last decade is how to swallow death like a bitter pill and pretend it doesn’t leave scars. He doesn’t see Sylvain for a moment. He sees Glenn. He sees his father. Sylvain is a pale, lifeless corpse that’s left to rot in the wake of war.  
  
_“He wasn’t supposed to die at all!”_

“No. I won’t. Felix, look at me.”

He doesn’t know when he dropped his eyes to the floor. He doesn’t know when he started to hold his breath and count. Glenn used to say it was better to be calm, but Glenn is dead. Glenn threw himself in the path of someone he cared about and all that was left was a broken sword and a battlefield soaked in blood.

“I won’t let you,” he repeats between his teeth.

“Relax, this wound wouldn’t kill me. A bit of magic and look, all better! I mean, sore, sure but nothing a cute nurse can’t fix for me.” 

There it is again. That painful jab that reminds him that his feelings are a spectacle to be whispered about behind his back. How isn’t it strange that he's never taken a wife or courted a girl? When will the last heir of Rodrigue finally take a wife and bear a child with a Crest? Yet here Sylvain sits, grinning with the hope Felix will agree that yes, a cute nurse would cure all his problems.  
  
“You’re a bastard you know that?” 

“Don’t look so concerned, that’s not your style. Admit it, it was a little funny.”

“It wasn’t funny at all, I thought you were seriously hurt!” Felix steps forward and grabs Sylvain’s collar, ignoring how he hisses in pain at the sudden jerk forward. “Your recklessness made me fear some divine punishment had finally hit you, but instead you find this an opportunity to make _a joke out of_ your lazy, incompetent training. Maybe if you spent less time chasing skirts and learning how to wield a lance, I wouldn’t have to lecture you like a petulant little brat!” His eyes are level with Sylvain, who much to his annoyance hasn’t even flinched or even tried to look remotely guilty.

“You should be thanking me,” he says with another lopsided grin. If Felix weren’t so angry it might have made his ears flush “Don’t be so mean. Felix, come on!” 

“I don’t know if you noticed but I just buried my father.” 

When Felix releases Sylvain’s shirt, his expression goes from amused to stony, his lips set in a thin line and his eyes downcast. “I noticed. He was always good to me when we were kids… even when I got into trouble. Even when Ingrid had to come drag you and I to his front door for a scolding.” There’s a pause before Sylvain lifts his gaze. “You’re a lot like him. Him and Glenn.”  
  
“Do not.” Felix feels his fingers twitch. “Do not sit there and tell me I’m anything like them. I’ll be stronger than them. I won’t let myself be killed defend some mad boar. I’m the last heir to the house Fraldarius and this bloodline ends with me. At least, my father’s bloodline. My uncle will have to carry on our title.”

“Well that’s ominous.” Sylvain stands and fusses with the button of his shirt, some slipped through the wrong holes as if he’d been buttoning it in a hurry. “I suppose you’re going to just aim to die alone and miserable? Maybe a wandering mercenary? It would suit you, seeing as all you want to do is hone your blade and verbally assault your best friend in the whole world.” He says the last part with a snort, shaking his head. “Don’t give me that sour look. I suppose you never got the chance to tell him, huh?”

“I don’t imagine that conversation would have gone well. Sorry father, I like men and I know that means the death of our bloodline and my major crest but don’t worry I’m sure between that and Glenn being dead we’ll make the whole thing work out.” Felix narrows his eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

“Don’t use sarcasm, it’s weird when you do it. Like when Dimitri snorts when he laughs.”

“Don’t you ever, I mean ever, put yourself in my path again do you understand me? If it means I have to stab you myself, I will.” He takes Sylvain’s arm and forces him to turn, looking up at the boy he’s loved since he was thirteen. Maybe it’s the way Sylvain looks with the sunlight behind him, or how the scars around his heart are bleeding again for the family he’s lost. Even if he and his father had been on poor terms, Felix loved him. And Glenn… What he wouldn’t give for one last laugh. One more hug. “Don’t make me lose you, too. Not like that. If you die, you die on your terms, Sylvain.”

“Felix…?” Sylvain reaches toward him but instead Felix pushes himself away and leaves the room without looking back. It’s not worth lingering where old hurts threaten to become new fears.

\---

_“I'm not immune to emotion, you know. Far from it. I haven't gone a day without questioning why my father and brother had to die, while I survived. I'll bear this pain until the day I die, but I refuse to wallow in it.”_

\---

**[After The War]**

“What are you going to do now? You could stay here with the rest of us, Dimitri will need his royal guard.”

Felix looks up from his cup of tea and studies Ingrid’s face for a moment. She’s trying to be gentle, of course, in that way she is with him. She’s patient, but it’s lost in her eyes. Maybe it’s war, but mostly it’s the knowledge that no matter what they’ve won there is still blood under their nails that will never truly dry. 

“I suppose someone needs to return to the Fraldarius estate and settle things. I’m sure the other lords will want my father reburied in the family crypt which is a political nightmare I’m not going to enjoy. I could also just leave. I won’t serve under Dimitri.” It’s a sore spot, really. While Felix may acknowledge that Dimitri has been growing as a king, there’s never truly been closure between them. There’s a thread between them – fragile and pulled so tight it could fray.

“He’s changed, you know.” Sylvain taps his spoon against his bowl and then waves it in Felix’s direction. “He and professor… er, Byleth, I have to get used to that, really did it. They ended the war. I mean, with our amazing help of course.”

“They may have ended the fighting, but the aftermath is another matter. And who knows how long before he decides to go on another rampage. I’d rather not be his human shield.” Felix pointedly stabs at his vegetables. “I have no good reason to play as his lap dog. Glenn was sworn to be his sword hand, but my blade is better served away from the throne.”  
  
“Felix, I don’t know how to say this nicely, but you’re being a complete asshole you know that?” Sylvain frowns. “Come on, don’t look so down, just join us for a bit and see how Dimitri is. We’ve never really had the chance to think about the future since Duscur. Not really, anyway.”  
  
“I’m not interested in talking about the future.” Felix pushes his plate and empty cup back and stands up. Rather, he’s not interested in talking about a future he feels no stake in. “I’ve lost my appetite. I have packing to do and don’t follow me. I’m not interested in hearing your sob stories about how I should stay for the boar’s sake.” He jerks his arm away when Sylvain reaches for his sleeve, “Just go find some grateful village girl to sleep with, it’s the only thing you’re half-good at, anyway.”

Felix pretends he doesn’t see the hurt on Sylvain’s face. It’s always him who walks away, isn’t it? If Sylvain is left hurting that’s his problem.

\---

_“You've been getting on my nerves for years. I've tried to be patient with you, but I'm tired of holding my tongue. You're reckless in your personal affairs and in battle. And you're always prattling on about women!”_

\---

**[Imperial Year 1171]**

“You need to try to make friends, Felix.” Glenn is crouched down on the sandy training floor with a crooked grin as he watches Felix fuss with his new sword belt. “Do you like it? It’s new leather, so make sure you take care of it.”  
  
“When will Father let me use a real sword?”

“When you can handle the training blade.” Glenn touches the dulled blade at his side. “Don’t worry, okay? You’re strong and you get better every day. But Father is right, it’s time to branch out a bit more and try to make friends. You’re still young, enjoy it.” Glenn ruffles his hair and Felix beams up at him, taking his sleeve as they head back into the main hall of the estate.

After changing, Felix follows Glenn into the dining room and he half-hides behind his legs to see that the Margrave Gautier has brought his son. He looks to be about Felix’s age or a bit older and he’s fumbling with his cravat while scowling down at it. After a moment he tugs it off and shoves it into his jacket pocket, only stopping when he meets Felix’s eyes. He nods once, winks, and then takes a few steps closer.

“Ah, Felix, you’re here.” His father looks over and smiles. “This is Sylvain. I don’t think you two have met yet. We’ll be talking for a few hours so why don’t you show him around?”

Felix frowns a bit and looks up at Glenn. “Can you come?”  
  
“Father needs me today. Don’t worry, I’ll come find you for dinner.” Glenn gives a small bow to the Margrave and the three men turn to leave. Felix looks after Glenn and then turns back to Sylvain and his mop of shaggy hair. He grins at him and Felix can see the small freckles that dot his nose. 

“I’ll show you around. Welcome to the estate.” He wants to offer his arm but is that okay? He reaches out, then withdraws, but then Sylvain grabs his hand and tugs him along. “W-Wait!”

“Let’s explore! We could play hide and seek, or guess the paintings, or jump on the biggest beds!” Sylvain is a ball of energy and something about it makes Felix feel like he can let himself loosen up. He doesn’t need to be a formal son for now, not when this new acquaintance is just like him. Hand in hand, they hurry through the back halls into the grounds as new friends without a care in the world. It’s easy like this, to think of themselves as friends when they pick up sticks and have a mock battle of Seiros and Nemesis. Sylvain is all open smiles and bursting with games that leave Felix with leaves in his hair and grass stains on his elbows that Glenn laughs about, and his father shakes his head at with a laugh of his own. The margrave is a bit sterner, reminding Sylvain as guests they shouldn’t be so careless.  
  
It never changes.

No matter which estate they visit, Sylvain and Felix slip away from the adults and create a world of their own somewhere else. In the summers when Dimitri and Ingrid join them the four of them often sit together and watch the sunset and think of a future without the burden of knowing just how heavy the crown truly sits.

When Felix scrapes his palms trying to beat Dimitri at lance practice, he sniffles to Sylvain while he wraps his palms and assures him with that big smile that it’s okay if lances aren’t his thing when he’s so good with a sword. Felix enjoys the long winters when they spend longer days training and drink hot cider in the library while their tutors read to them. He and Sylvain ride horses through the snow and sometimes Sylvain lends him his scarf when Felix loses his own. Sylvain becomes a steady pillar in his life and saying goodbye brings weeks of boredom and Felix wishing eagerly for the next time they meet.

Felix is just shy of his twelfth birthday when Dimitri, Ingird, Sylvain, and himself have a week at the summer estate of Dimitri’s late mother. They spend the week riding, hunting, and swimming in the lake until nightfall tucks them back into bed with the promise of a new day of adventure. Often, Sylvain sneaks into Felix’s room and they read through the old knight’s tales in the library and find new stories to re-enact. It’s a world away from politics and responsibilities, if only for a while. 

“My father says I need to be ready for the day I take the throne. It seems strange… that one day I’ll be a king.” Dimitri looks over to Felix. “But you’ll all be with me, right? My royal guard?”

Ingrid sits up and puts her hand in the middle. “Promise. We’ll be your knights.”  
  
Felix nods and puts his own hand in and nods. “Your knights,” he agrees.

When Sylvain puts his hand over Felix’s a heat rushes to his ears and Felix dares to cast a glance at him but finds himself stunned at how Sylvain looks with the glowing sunset behind him and his lazy smile lighting up his entire face. Felix catches himself holding his breath and he looks away before he stares too long.

It’s the first time Felix wonders what it would be like if Sylvain leaned in just a little closer.

\---

_“The dead won't acknowledge your loyalty. They don't care.”_

\---

“Felix, a moment?”

“No.”

Felix doesn’t pause to see Dimitri’s face when he angles his foot to kick the door shut. Dimitri’s hand catches the edge and pushes it back open. “While I try to recognize your right to privacy, I think I deserve to be heard for a moment.”  
  
“You deserve nothing. Unless you need me to cut out your other eye, I don’t have the time for you.”  
  
“I didn’t lose… No, I’m here to discuss the future of Faerghus. And us.” Dimitri steps inside and Felix grabs the nearest object, an old vase he never put flowers in, and throws it at Dimitri. He sidesteps easily enough and avoids the explosion of porcelain. “That’s not your property you know.” He seems more concerned about the shards of the vase than the fact Felix threw it at him.

“Get out.” Felix wants to grab his sword and bring it down on his former friend. “If you don’t think I’ll stab the new King you’ll be in for a shock.”

“You wouldn’t. I know you couldn’t. As much as you may hate me right now you would never strike me with your blade.” Dimitri makes a motion to the desk. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

“Just say it. We aren’t friends chatting over biscuits and tea.”

“Stay here.”

“No. Now go.”

“Why?”

The question shouldn’t bother Felix… and yet it does. Why does he feel the need to defend himself from Dimitri? His back straightens and he looks down at his folded clothing on the bed. “You act as if you’re the only person who’s lost something or has something to prove. You being king is no different. You aren’t a changed man and certainly not at the expense of my father.” His hands threaten to curl into fists, so he busies himself with packing the bags. All the anger he’d held close to his heart is seeping through into his words. Had Dimitri truly changed that day in the rain? Was he guilty? Does he carry the same scent of blood he can’t wash away? “People have died for you. Lied and destroyed themselves for you and what do you do? You turn around and sing some promise that you’ll be better and do better but how can you when all you obsess over is the memory of the dead?”

“Their memory is what makes me strong.”

“It makes you weak! It makes you dangerous!” Felix slams one of the trunks shut and turns to Dimitri. “How can you rule a people when you have no control? You’re a beaten dog ready to attack at the first hint of a fight. What happens when someone opposes you? Will you torture them? Rip out their eyes? Drown them in their own waste in the dungeons?” His words land and while Dimitri doesn’t flinch, he can see the way his eye darkens. “You took everything from me. I owe you _nothing._”

“Felix… I never wanted Rodrigue to die. Or Glenn.” There’s discomfort in the way his shoulders move. “They were good men. They never deserved to die… not for me.”

“No. They didn’t. But it’s on your hands now. While my father might be proud to see you in this new image…” Felix wants to be. At one point he was. “There’s nothing for me in your court but the promise of an early grave.” Dimitri didn’t take them, and he knows it. His father and Glenn gave up their lives for a man who could never be what they hoped. It was suicide for a lost cause.

“I carry that guilt, Felix. I always will. I know what it means to lose a father.” Dimitri looks away toward the window, obscuring the side of his face with his good eye. “I know you two weren’t always on the best of terms, but I know you loved him.”  
  
Felix doesn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he nods once, and swallows back his anger. It’s hard for him to be angry when Dimitri hits that part of him that is still raw and bleeding. “I loved him. Maybe I owed it to him to talk things out, but that’s not what this is about. You can’t ask me to stay after all of this”

“What about Sylvain?”

Now that… that Felix didn’t expect. He turns back to Dimitri, shocked. “What are you talking about?”

“Mercedes tells me you were frantic after his injury before the march to Enbarr. You two seem to have been reconnecting… I thought it might be an incentive for you to stay, if I’m being honest.” Dimitri is studying him in a way that makes his ears go warm and red. “Before the rebellion… you told me you thought you cared for him. I suppose we stopped being friends after that.”  
  
“That was a long time ago. Besides, what use do I have for someone who only prattles on about girls and keeps me up at night when he brings them back to his room? He’s lazy. He’s disrespectful. He doesn’t give a damn about our friendship or what it meant.” He has a dazzling smile, a sunset glow, and a laugh that still makes his stomach flip with excitement. “We can’t go back to what we were.”  
  
“No. But you can be something else. I ask that you give yourself a week to decide. Stay and help the others with the monastery and if you still wish to return to your estate and resume your duties there, I won’t ask again.” Dimitri stands and offers Felix a small nod. “And… talk to Sylvain. I think his injury is still bothering him.”

“...I was scared, you know. That you’d die on us.” Felix licks his dry lips and shakes his head. Dimitri, in that frustrating way of his, manages to pry open even the smallest crack in his mask. “We can’t be like we were… but if you had died, I would have asked myself if I could have stopped you. Your decent into madness was frightening. Your recovery is… bittersweet. We can try, Dimitri.” It feels like it’s been too long since he called him by his name to his face. “Glenn was raised to be your right hand, and that duty is now mine. I told you I’d be in your guard, didn’t I? A week. I’ll give you a week.” When Dimitri looks like he wants to say more Felix lifts a hand. “Small steps. Sorry about the vase.” It’s a promise, and judging from the small smile, Dimitri understands that when he leaves. 

Felix watches him go, his hands on the lock of his trunk. A week. Just a week. He bends to gather the vase shards and for a moment he thinks of Sylvain bringing flowers for the marker in the family crypt. Ambrosia, he said, because the colours reminded him of happiness. 

  
_“They don’t have thorns. They won’t cause you more pain.”_

\---

_“Chivalry begets the worship and glorification of death. Am I alone in finding that grotesque? I suppose you'll excommunicate me for blaspheming like this.”_

\---

Felix looks up at his ceiling. He doesn’t sleep well when he hears Sylvain talking next door. Well, he can’t sleep when he hears Sylvain is chatting with some girl who giggles too loud and says his name in a way that makes Felix’s stomach twist. Sylvain calls her pretty and says he’s glad she could come back with him.  
  
The walls are too thin here.

Felix imagines he’s twisting her hair around his finger and pressing his lips to her neck. He’ll tell her she’s fun, she’s cute, he’ll be sure she has a good time. He’s heard it all before and it burns him. He closes his eyes and presses his forearm over his eyes, counting slowly in hopes he can sleep. But that sound he dreads creeps through, the creaks and the sound of wood lightly scraping across the floor. His name on her lips. He doesn’t say hers.

He leaves the room with a pipe and lights it as he walks down the stairs to the greenhouse. At this hour the quiet is a welcome peace. He settles himself on one of the low walls and exhales smoke through his nose. His father hadn’t been happy he picked up the habit, but he’d never scolded him much for it beyond the odd sigh and a furrowed brow. There are a few people still wandering around, mostly soldiers and a few merchants coming home from drinks and their own romantic adventures. It’s cool and for a moment Felix finds himself missing the frigid North and the winters spent at the Gautier estate.  
  
Smoke burns his throat. He came out here to avoid Sylvain and now he’s indulging in the thought of him and the memories of a time before everything went to hell. There was a time he had a fantasy about being in his arms and calling himself Sylvain’s, but time is cruel, and fantasies are fleeting. Those memories are precious… and yet they ache.

_“What about Sylvain?”_

He confessed his crush to Dimitri when they were still close, sure, but to think he had remembered that? Felix bites his thumb nail and scowls down at his pipe. It’s frustrating that even in these moments he can’t free his mind from Sylvain or his past with Dimitri. Everything that had once been so whole is just so… so…. Something inside Felix broke and the shockwaves permeated through everything else in his life. It’s pathetic, he thinks with a sneer as he takes a slow pull on the pipe and exhales up into the deep indigo sky.  
  
Maybe he should take a page out of Sylvain’s book and go ask some pretty solider to kiss his neck and take him to bed - would it make Sylvain angry? Would it make Dimitri stop talking about a long-gone crush that was always doomed to fail? He’s not the jealous or vindictive type but the circumstances for being out here mulling over the past makes him feel, well, a bit bitter.

He crosses his ankles and when he closes his eyes, he lets himself down the dangerous path of what it might be like to be her. How would Sylvain’s fingers feel trailing up his spine and tangling in his hair? How would his breathing hitch when he’s kissed? Does he taste like sweets or something richer and more spiced? Felix rolls his head back and sighs. “Goddess help me,” he mutters, half tempted to touch his brow as if he was deserving of redemption from these thoughts. 

Lanterns are dimming but there’s still music from the dining hall and a few voices that carry down to where he sits. For a while he just listens to the tinny sound of the instruments and the people who pass by chatting about the state of the continent and the fate Edelgard and how Dimitri’s rule will be one of peace and restoration. For the most part he keeps his head down but a voice calling from behind him makes him look up. Frowning, he looks over to see it’s the blonde Sylvain had taken back from the dining hall. She looks put together, if a bit flushed, and hurries to a group of other women exiting down the stairs.

“I thought you made a catch tonight.” One of the them giggles against the back of her hand. “The margrave’s cute son.”

“He’s not interested in trying to produce an heir.” She rolls her eyes and passes by Felix’s side, smelling of Sylvain’s soap and the oil he uses to shave with. His blood feels hot, pooling in his chest and up to his ears. “I’m looking for a noble marriage, not baggage.”

His fingers twitch but in the end, he lets her walk away despite how much he wants to demand to know how she could say something so cold. Sylvain once told him Crests were as much a curse as a blessing, and once over a few mugs of ale told Felix maybe it was best their bloodlines die out. No would else would have to suffer. It made Felix’s heart hurt then and it still does now.

While he’s still frustrated with Sylvain, he’s more upset to think of someone using him.

Felix doesn’t knock on his door. He stands there for a half hour before finally heading next door to his own bed and leaning his back against the wall where he knows Sylvain will be asleep on the other side of. He presses his palm to the stone and spreads his fingers, wishing for just a moment he could lace them through Sylvain’s and tell him it’s okay. He gets it. No matter how angry he is at all of this… at Dimitri and Sylvain it’s not… no… No, what Felix is angry at is the limbo he exists in. Politically. Socially. He has choices to make but no direction to follow and for just one moment he’d like to lay back in the grass and feel his friends close. He wants to feel Sylvain’s fingers lace through his own and together they’d make a promise to carry each other.

It just aches too much to know it’s all slipped between his fingers when he wasn’t looking.


	2. citrus and whiskey

> _I know you can't _  
_remember how to shine.  
_ _Your heart's a bird   
_ _without the wings to fly._

**[Imperial Year 1176]**

Heartbreak is an emotion that follows grief. Anger is quick to follow, but in the end what settles is the nothingness and the knowledge that there was a last goodbye before they knew it. A last smile. A last everything.

What were Glenn’s last words? Why can’t Felix remember them? Did he tell him he loved him, or does he just wish he had? Did Glenn know he wasn’t coming home? Did Felix ever consider it?

“Hey.”

Felix looks up at Sylvain, his breathing heavy and his palms feeling raw from the training sword. He drops it into the sand lurches forward, grabbing Sylvain’s collar and welcoming the way Sylvain just hugs him. He feels himself wanting to cry again but there’s been so many tears he feels drained. He heaves with a weak sob and shakes his head as Sylvain lowers them onto the ground. “Hey… hey it’s okay if you need to cry.”

“He… Glenn…” Saying his name is like vomiting glass. “Glenn is dead!”  
  
Sylvain’s hand touches the back of his head and tentatively strokes down his hair. “I know. I know and I’m so, so sorry.” Sylvain smells like orange peel and whatever soaps his clothes are washed in. It’s comforting, like those days laying on the grass and watching the sunset. Before war. Before Glenn was ripped from his life to leave him bleeding. “I came as fast as I could. Dimitri seems really shaken up.”  
  
“He had to see it. There wasn’t even a body left to bury.” Felix pulls back to rub his stinging eyes. “He lost everyone. Father says he won’t talk right now. He’s been in his room for days.” Felix sits back on his heels and looks down at his hands that are red and scratched from the training sword. Blisters by his fingers look ready to burst. “I miss him.”

Sylvain doesn’t say anything. He only continues to rub Felix’s back and arms. For a while they sit on the floor until Felix finds the energy to stand and put the training sword away.

“Have you eaten anything yet?”  
  
Felix shakes his head and tugs at his sword belt. “I don’t want to sit in the dining hall. I just… I just want somewhere that’s…”  
  
“Quiet. Okay.” Sylvain wipes his palms on his thighs and nods. “Go to your room okay? I’ll go get something from the kitchens. You know me, I can charm those kitchen ladies into making us anything.” He offers him that lopsided smile and for a moment Felix can almost forget how much he’s hurting. “How about those tart pastries you like? And some stew. I’m on it!”  
  
Felix almost calls after him that he’s fine, but he’s already bounding off out the doors through hallways that feel so strange to Felix now. He slowly makes his way up towards his bedroom with every step echoing over the tile. The stone walls hold in the cold grasp of grief like smoke and it chokes the joy out of Felix’s lungs. His footfalls are heavy and it’s only muscle memory that leads him up the steps and into his room where Glenn’s journal still sits on his bed. The leather cover smells of vanilla and patchouli oil, the same oil he uses on his sword… used. He _used _it.

His fingers still on the cover and Felix aches to collapse in on himself.

The chess set on his dresser catches the fading sunlight. The knight piece made of stone and crystal glimmers with a taunt that breaks something inside Felix. A white-hot rage blooms across his chest and up through his throat until he screams like a dying animal bearing the last display of defiance. He grabs the board and throws it across into the door where the wood splinters and the pieces scatter. He lunges for the carved shape of the stallion and beats it against the stone, new hot, angry tears clouding his vision while shards of crystal fly in all directions. It feels childish, to hate a representation of what took Glenn away.

His father had been stoic when he told him, trying to keep his face calm as he told him that Glenn died defending the royal family. That he died like a knight.

_“He died like a knight.”_

No, he didn’t. He died in pain. He died away from home. He died where Felix couldn’t reach him and it rips his heart open again and again and again and -

“Felix!”

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” Felix pulls away from Sylvain’s hands but he holds his arms tightly. “Let me go!”  
  
“Felix, stop! You’re bleeding!”  
  
His trembling hands still and his fixes his unfocused gaze on Sylvain. The blisters on his hands from training have opened and blood is smeared over his palms and wrists, the crystal piece cracked and broken in his grasp. “I didn’t… I couldn’t…” He closes his eyes and presses his dirty palms over his eyes.  
  
Like that, with his best friend hugging him, Felix sobs.

\---

_“You're insatiable. Do you ever stop? Certainly not to practice your sword technique. You always skip training. And you never consider how your actions hurt others...or how you hold them back.”_

\---

“Left leg back. Your stance is sloppy.”

“I’m used to riding horseback. I don’t see the need to perfect my stance.”

“If you get knocked off the horse what exactly do you plan on doing?” Felix sighs and taps his leg with the flat of his sword. “You’ve been lazy since you adjusted to riding and you favour keeping your weight too far forward on your lance. You’d make a better sword user with how reckless you are. Maybe you’d actually hit something.”  
  
“I… was that a compliment or an insult?” Sylvain moves his foot and readjusts his grip. “You know, we could ditch this and go -”

Felix lunges and strikes the lance out of his hands. “Lazy. Girls aren’t going to crawl into bed with you if you’re maimed.” He’s still thinking about last night and the way his palm felt against the cold wall. How much he wanted to yell at the girl who used Sylvain. How much he wanted to yell at him or comfort him or… It’s stupid how Sylvain can make him feel so wildly unstable in his own feelings half the time.  
  
Sylvain frowns at him when he picks up his lance, leaning against it with the blade digging into the sandy floor. “Do you honestly think everything I do is for girls? I mean, honestly. As a friend.” There’s something different in the set of Sylvain’s mouth. “What’s your deal today?”

“I didn’t sleep well due to a certain someone bringing village girls into his room. You’d think at our age you’d stop bringing them to your dorm room no matter how temporary it is.” It’s easier than admitting he wanted to be the one in his room with his hands in Sylvain’s hair. How he wanted to be the one fitting his mouth against his own and whispering his name. “Maybe that’s why you’re so sloppy. Tired?”  
  
Sylvain’s face tightens, and he looks away. “Forget it.” He pushes the lance away and it falls with a dull thud. “That’s how it always is with you, right? Thinking I’m just some skirt chasing moron?” The anger that rolls through his words takes Felix by surprise. “You know, Dimitri was the same way for a while, Ingrid too. But you? You ride me the hardest.”

“Because you’re capable. You’ve always been capable.” Felix scowls. “If you don’t see that then you’re still just a child.”

“And how do you know what I’m capable of? When’s the last time you even tried to take an interest in my life?” Sylvain turns around and he closes the space between them so quickly that Felix almost trips backing up. “Dimitri loses himself in war and you shut down. You didn’t even try to take an interest in our friendship after that.”

“You were too busy fucking every girl who you could charm with your title and a smile. Don’t pin this on me!” Felix can feel the rolling anger in his gut. “You stopped bothering to come see me. Stopped coming to practice. And whenever we did meet up all you prattled on about was girls and nothing else.”

Something in Sylvain’s jaw tenses and he speaks with such a controlled breath it comes out between his teeth. “Like you didn’t just push me away every chance you got? You pulled away from everyone after Glenn -”  
  
“Don’t you dare bring Glenn into this!”

“No, I’ve had it. I’ve had enough of this, Felix!” He’s never seen Sylvain like this, the vein in his neck pulled tight under the skin and anger obscuring his eyes. “All you do is sit there and insult people day in and day out. You call Dimitri a boar, you mock Ingrid’s grief, for… Goddess’ sake, Felix, you bullied _Ashe _for thinking you reminded him of a knight! All we’ve tried to do is reach out to you, but you’d rather just skulk around like a petulant brat and I’m not going to defend it anymore.”  
  
Felix’s back is against the wall, eyes fixed on Sylvain’s when he steps closer. He’s not wrong, is he? That Felix pushes everyone away. But the sour notes of last night are too fresh for him to indulge in all the things he’s kept simmering below the surface. “I don’t give a damn if you defend me or not. I don’t need you pretending to be my caretaker. Just accept we outgrew one another and that you’ll end up some miserable old man with a title and I’ll make something out of my life.”

“Who are you?”

The question stills Felix’s tongue. The hot words cool and settle like heavy metal in his mouth. In an instant, all the anger in Sylvain’s body seems to drain. He can’t describe what he sees in Sylvain’s eyes when they search his own. Regret? Grief? “Who are you, Felix? Where… where did you go? You used to be the one who wore his heart on his sleeve… who wanted to be the good guy and make sure we stayed together. My Felix isn’t hateful.”

_My Felix._

Felix swallows. The last time they were this close was that day on his bedroom floor, sobbing into Sylvain’s shoulder and ruining his silk blouse with blood. Every word digs into him. His anger. His isolation. He’d sworn to close off his heart and be the strongest among them, though he never had a sense of direction beyond winning. First it was to beat Glenn. Then to kill Dimitri if he became mad. Now… 

“I was never yours, Sylvain.” The rasp in his voice surprises him, but the words catch on that painful barb that is the distance between them that he could never reach for. The forever greener pastures and forbidden fruit. “I don’t owe you. I can’t let go of all this just because you miss me.” He tips his head back and closes his eyes, shaking his head when a bitter laugh escapes him. “I saw her last night. The girl. She just wanted to use you.”  
  
“I know. They always do.”

“You let them.”  
  
“It’s easier to hate them than hate myself for it. Guess it doesn’t work very well, huh?” Sylvain’s fingers on his cheek startle Felix and he opens his eyes again. His palm cups his cheek and for a moment Felix wants to lean in and take it all back. He wants to pull every insult back into his lungs and start over. He wants to close that space and rewind the hands of the clock just for a while. 

“Sylvain -”  
  
“When you lost Glenn, my father doubled down and finding me a suitable fiancé. The longer I spent away from you, the colder you became. And when Dimitri… it changed you. It was like you were afraid to have friends again. I suppose I don’t blame you. We were barely more than kids. War… Crests, it’s all fucked with us, hasn’t it?” He pauses and Felix can feel his heart beating in his throat. “You’re right. You were never mine. You won’t ever be mine. So maybe I’ll just die alone, a miserable old man with a Crest, right? And maybe I’ll wonder why I didn’t make you mine, Felix.”  
  
“Don’t -” Felix reaches as Sylvain pulls away, catching his wrist. “Don’t. Just stop. Stand there and shut up and let me think.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my turn to walk away.” He gently pulls his hand away and Felix wants to lunge for it and keep it there to assure himself that it’s real and he hasn’t let this all fall further through the cracks. A brief moment of warmth ripped away and there’s no one to blame but himself. Sylvain doesn’t say goodbye, and Felix doesn’t follow. He feels… empty.

\---

_“I can never again spar with my brother. Not unless he climbs out of his grave. Still, I continue my endless pursuit of strength.”_

\---

**[Imperial Year 1176]**

“Please, I am begging you to stop talking about philosophy.” Felix turns the page of his history book and marks a note from his tutor. “You and Ingrid are killing me.”

Glenn laughs and tosses one of the decorative pillows at Felix. He catches it and laughs, tucking the book back under his stack of scrolls. “Oh, don’t look at gloomy, you’ll have a betrothed and be a good husband and everyone will talk about how strong and handsome the youngest son of the Fraldarius line is.”  
  
“You’re so obnoxious!” Felix laughs and together they sit on the floor while one of the servants brings tea and sandwiches. “I heard father talking. Do you really think you’ll be going to war?”

Glenn rubs his jaw and sighs. The softness of his face has thinned to sharper lines like their father, but Felix can see the soft slant of his nose like their mother and her green eyes. There's a faint stubble on his jaw and his under eyes are darker than usual. He’s been training harder than usual now that he’s taken on training Dimitri on rotating weeks. “I don’t know. But if we do, I’ll have to go. So, keep busting your ass with training, got it?” He smiles a bit and nudges Felix’s side. “Being a knight and the shield to the crown prince… It’s rewarding. It’s my life.”

Felix leans his head on Glenn’s shoulder and looks down at his sword belt. “Is it all it’s meant to be? Being a knight? Ingrid always says it’s about the ideals and values… that you’re a model of it.”  
  
“Do you think I am?”

“A model knight? I don’t think I can make that call. I know you keep beating me senseless with a sword and you’re one of the best with a lance. Dimitri sings your praises.” He turns over one of the oatmeal cookies and takes a bite off the edge with a small frown. “You’re the heir to the House… I don’t know if I’ll ever really be as good as you.” It’s a small fear, but one that can feel so big it’s suffocating. Glenn’s always been the rock and the one who pushes him forward. “Do you think I’ll be a proper knight?”

“Hey, don’t think that way. You’re going to be my equal until the day I hang up my sword. You’re so determined and passionate, you know that? You inspire me, too. Every day when you pick a sword up ready to try, I realize I can only ever get better and be challenged.” He snags the cookie from Felix’s fingers and laughs when Felix tackles him back. “Come on, you can do better than that!”  
  
“You’re such a jackass!” Felix laughs while they tumble around fighting over snacks. Glenn pins him and Felix manages to wiggle away after elbowing him. They’ve always loved to rough house and tease, and it’s something Felix values. Glenn is so stern and serious with others or when he’s slipping into his role of a knight. But Felix? With Felix he’s the big brother who keeps him smiling and pushes him to be his best. He’s Felix’s other half. They’re two peas in a pod, according to their father.

“I’ll surpass you one day. I’ll become the sword hand of the king and you’ll be the shield. We’re unstoppable.” Felix smiles and lays back on the floor, teacups and cookies forgotten on the table and crumbs all over Felix’s vest. “I’m not worried, you know. If you go to battle, I’ll just have to get stronger for when you come back.”  
  
“Deal. I look forward to it.” Glenn pauses and looks over at him, hair sprawled out over the carpet. “So. Are you going to talk to me about Sylvain or are we going to pretend you’re not into him?”

Felix feels his stomach drop and he sits up. “What do you mean?”

“You like him, right?”  
  
“He’s my best friend.”  
  
“True but you also stare after him like a lost puppy.” Glenn reaches across the small space to hold onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry, was that insensitive?” His brow furrows. “I didn’t mean to… I just want you to be happy, you know? I’ve been engaged since Ingrid was born, but you get to make a choice. And I hope you make the one that’s good for you.”  
  
“I’d have no heir.”  
  
“That’s what I’m for. I’ll just have a dozen kids.”  
  
“I’d ask Ingrid about that first.” Felix snorts and looks down at his knees. “I just… I know it’s not wrong, but I don’t think he likes me. And I don’t want to not be friends.” He tugs at a loose thread on the carpet and looks back over at Glenn. “I like him, though. He’s… really good.” Felix knows there’s already talk of marriage arrangement for Sylvain. The Margrave had made it clear after disowning Miklan as heir that Sylvain’s Crest was too precious to waste on some common family. Glenn’s arrangement had been with a similar interest, but he always found his father less… obvious about it.

For a while they sit there just enjoying the silence and the smell of the tea leaves as they sit in hot water. The air is full of the smell of hibiscus and rose and it makes Felix’s eyes droop with an exhaustion he didn’t know could hit him so fast. He leans his head on Glenn’s shoulder and sighs. “You always know my secrets.”  
  
“It’s my job to protect you, Felix. Ever since you were born.” He lays his head against Felix’s. “When you were born, Father put you in my arms and I was terrified. Absolutely terrified of this… tiny little baby who I thought could break so easily. And Father said I had to look out for you. It was my job to always keep you safe.” He runs a hand through Felix’s bangs and sighs. “I hope I did a good job.”  
  
“You did. You do.”

“Love you, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah. You won’t be saying that tomorrow when I finally knock that sword out of your hand.”  
  
“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.”  
  
\---

_“I've spent my life avoiding love and romance. They're distractions. Blades, blood, and battle. That's what I'm made of and nothing else.”_

\---  
  
  


Breakfast is tense, so much so that even Dimitri looks uneasy as he tries to detail the plan to return to Fhirdiad in the morning. Sylvain is poking his eggs around and Felix has taken great interest in stabbing his sausage repeatedly. He keeps replaying Sylvain’s words in his head over and over. He feels that hollow throb over his heart that longs to be filled with Sylvain’s words. Make him his… turn back what they lost. Yet Sylvain made it clear that was a door Felix had closed and locked.

“The caravans are packed and ready to go. We can ride at dawn.” Dimitri clears his throat. “Does that work for everyone?”  
  
Felix finally gives up on eating and nods. “I’m already packed. Dawn is fine. I can ride with the back caravan if you prefer.”

“I was hoping you’d be up at the front with me so we can discuss plans once we get back to the capital.”

Sylvain finally looks up from his eggs now drowned in gravy and pepper. “Are you still scared of horses, Felix?”

Felix feels his ears heat up and he stabs his sausage again with a loud cough. “I’m not _scared_ of horses I just _dislike _them. They’re unpredictable and they smell bad and they make the most obnoxious noises and -”  
  
“Felix is scared of horses?” Dimitri looks between them. “Since when?”  
  
“Remember when Glenn took him hunting for hares? He got thrown off the back of Sylvain’s mare.” Ingrid motions with her fork toward Felix. “He didn’t get back for years, even when I started to train up my pegasus. Terrified.”  
  
“I wasn’t terrified!” Despite the twisted, disappointed feeling in his stomach there’s something nostalgic about the way they laugh and tease one another. “Have you ever been kicked off a horse?”

“Yes.”  
  
“Several times.”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
“You’re all insufferable dung beetles and I hope you all get mud in your boots.” He snorts and shakes his head. “Fine, I’ll ride up front. Someone needs to make sure you don’t chase off after the first deer you see in the woods.” Felix brings his coffee to his lips which Dimitri’s expression goes from confused to startled and red.

“It was one dance five years ago!”  
  
They spend the day preparing and packing, saying goodbyes to locals and making sure the monastery is secured. Felix spends his time not exactly avoiding Sylvain but he’s certainly keeping some healthy distance. He nods to him before going to bed and offers a short hello when the begin the ride. Sylvain rides closer to the back while Felix keeps his promise of being up front with Dimitri. He shifts in the saddle and looks down at the mare he’s riding. Ingrid had assured him she’s docile but Felix has never really trusted a horse to be calm.

Dimitri tries to broach the subject of Sylvain but Felix steers away in to talks of economics and rebuilding the council. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about that day in the training room, but more that he doesn’t know what to say. How does he tell Dimitri he messed it up? The ride is quiet around sunset and Felix is back in his own mind while he hands out bags of food and pitches tents with other soldiers.

  
“We’ll need to double up for sleeping arrangements. You and Sylvain can take the east end of the perimeter.”  
  
“Dimitri -”

“Whatever this is, Felix, I need it to stop. If you two are to be part of this council, I need you to overcome this. It’s a few nights. If you two try to kill each other, we’ll discuss it further. But can you do this? Please?” Dimitri puts a hand on Felix’s arm. “Please try. It’s all I ask.”

Felix worries at the inside of his cheek and he sighs. “Fine. Just a few nights. And if I smother him to death don’t come crying to me when the margrave storms your chambers.” Felix grabs his travel bag and frowns. “I’m going to bed. I’ll be up for dawn.” 

\---

_“At least I know not to heedlessly obey orders. I know not to romanticize blind obedience. My brother taught me to think for myself.”_

\---

The third night is the first time Felix is awake when Sylvain comes back. Felix is propped up reading over one of the books Ingrid leant him, one of those war and philosophy books Glenn used to like. Sylvain looks tired when he shucks off his armour and sits down in his underclothes, not meeting Felix’s gaze.

The long silence grows more and more choking until Felix closes his book. “Is everything okay? In the camp.”

“What? Oh, yeah no it’s fine. Quiet.” He sips his waterskin and turns it over in his hands. “I can head out for a bit if you want. I know we’re still… weird.”

It’s an understatement at best. They’ve barely exchanged glances or words outside of a few moments with Dimitri or Ingrid. There isn’t tension… no, it’s more like the feeling of a wool blanket. It’s smothering and it prickles between them in a way that makes Felix want to rip it off but it’s not his decision. That space between them feels so big these days.

“Felix…” Sylvain takes another long drink and clears his throat. “I’m trying, you know. To get myself together and do better. I need to be ready to take up my title soon. I want to serve Dimitri and do right by our people.”  
  
Felix nods. He starts to speak but Sylvain lifts a hand. “No, listen. Please. You were right to be angry with me for what I did. How I just left you hanging all the time. It wasn’t that I was interested in chasing girls… things just got hard with my father. And all those balls and political events. But you pushed me away too, Felix.” He looks across to him and searches his eyes. “You were so determined to be stronger than the rest of us. You were angry. I don’t blame you for it, you know. You lost Glenn… you lost the most important person in your life. Miklan and I might not have been on good terms but when I had to kill him- when he turned into that thing? God, Felix, it was my own personal hell.”

Felix can’t deny that truth. He took grief and made it painful. He took that pain and made it into a drive to fight harder and harder. He let his tongue bleed steel and put up walls until he could find reasons to cut away those last threads to his heart. Dimitri’s declining mental state. Ingrid’s grief. And Sylvain… well, there was really nothing that justified the amount of anger he’s pushed onto his friend. 

“Did you mean it? When you said you’d regret not making me yours?” Felix speaks down into his lap. He can’t bear to meet Sylvain’s gaze in fear he’ll find the answer he doesn’t want to hear. For all the times he was unafraid to bite back, this… this is hard. Matters of the heart were never his strength. “Glenn used to tease me, you know. For… for liking you.”

“You_ liked _me?”

“Remember the first summer where we went to the lake just after Glenn started training with Dimitri? You convinced me to go swimming with you in the middle of the night, and even though we nearly froze to death I remember you huddling up with me by the docks, sharing a blanket and offering me apple cider from the skins. I thought of you as someone I’d spend a lifetime swimming in cold lakes with. Someone I’d share a blanket with.”

“I sense there’s a but in there.”

“You were an heir.” Felix finally looks toward Sylvain and lets their eyes meet. “I saw what he did to Miklan. He would have taken you away. Disowned you. And now with Glenn gone I have a duty to my house. To my father and…” Felix’s hands tighten in his blankets and something so strong grips his heart he nearly chokes. That same dark, suffocating grief that used to steal his breath in the months after Glenn died. “Sylvain?”

“Yeah?”

“My father is dead.”

Felix curls inward and within a breath, everything he fought to wall away crumbles and breaks. He wraps his arms around his stomach and draws inward, only stopping when he feels Sylvain’s arms circle him and pull him close. His head tucks under Sylvain’s chin and the breath he’d been holding becomes a choking sob released in a ragged gasp. Those same questions race through his mind. Could his father have understood his feelings? When was the last time they hugged? When had Felix last said he loved him? “Sylvain… Sylvain I never -”

“Don’t. Don’t go down that path, Felix.” Sylvain’s hand cups the back of his head and keeps him close. “He knew. He always knew." He rubs his hand along Felix’s back and sighs against his hair. “When Miklan died you sat with me over whiskey and told me I couldn’t keep blaming myself. He killed himself. I was just cleaning up the mess. But you know, it could have been me. That thought still gets to me sometimes. If he had a Crest, would he have loved me? Would I have even been born?” 

Sylvain is warm and that familiar smell of orange peels both breaks and heals Felix’s heart. So close and so far, like a portrait of ‘what ifs’. “We’re pretty fucked up, you and me.” He laughs, a bleak and hollow sound in the back of his throat. “Most of my family is dead. You killed your brother and your father is using you as a stud horse. Glenn… he was the one I would talk to. He was the one who kept my head on my shoulders.” Felix hasn’t moved out of Sylvain’s hold, feeling like if he does, he’ll break the moment. “I don’t know where we go from here.”

“I mean you could apologize for being a complete dick. I’m still sort of mad about training.” Sylvain keeps his chin on the top of his head and Felix can feel the smile in the way his skin moves. “I wanted… I guess I wanted you to understand that I felt like you were pushing back.”  
  
“I was.” Felix finally tilts his head up. “I was pushing you away.”

“We made a promise, you know. To be together until we died.”

The silence around them is comfortable. The sounds of campfires and quiet talking offers a pleasant soundtrack while Felix enjoys how Sylvain’s hand feels lazily drawing over his back. When he closes his eyes, he can see Sylvain’s bruised and battered face streaked with tears, shivering from the cold and huddled up in clothes far too big while Glenn rubs salves over his cheek. They found him in the frozen well… just where Miklan told Glenn he could find his sorry excuse for a brother. Felix, afraid for his friend, cupped his face between his small hands and promised to always fight. To live and breathe their last breath together.

Felix reaches up to lay his hands on Sylvain’s cheeks, taking in every line that has changed and follow the soft edges that stayed the same. His eyes flicker in surprise, Sylvain’s mouth pulling into a frown. “What?”

“I want to stay here. I want to see Dimitri bring back peace. I always thought I would be a sword to the kingdom, and then nothing at all. I almost… I nearly abandoned Dimitri to follow another path but it was always you who reminded me that we’d always fought for something greater. Even if I didn’t know it… you did.” Felix rubs his thumb across a small scar by Sylvain’s left temple, an arrow that has grazed him when they first returned to Gronder Field. “Sylvain I don’t know if I can ever -”

The space between them is so small that all Sylvain has to do is tilt his head forward to kiss him. When the soft curve of his lips slide across his own all Felix can think to do is draw closer. Faerghus has always been cold. Winters are brutal and unforgiving and the land shapes people even colder. They always sought warmth in those months; golden lit inns and woodsmoke scented log houses. Warm cups of cider and hot plates of mutton and beef stews. For Felix, however, it’s this. The warmth he’s chased for so long smells of citrus and smiles against his mouth, holding him close with hands that promise to always welcome him home. Sylvain is a warm bed to lay in. A hot meal to cure chilled bones. He is sunlight in the places where Felix thought there were only shadows.

They kiss again and Felix threads his hands through his hair to close what space is left between them. He fits his mouth against Sylvain’s and tries to taste all the years they’d lost to grief and war. He’s clumsy, trying to watch Sylvain’s small movements but when they break apart he’s panting and his ears burn.  
  
“Was that -”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“So I’m your first -”  
  
“Will you shut up? For once can you just not ruin this?” Their lips brush when they talk, Felix’s curved into a small smile. Sylvain snorts in reply and draws his hands over Felix’s back. “I almost kissed you when I got thrown off that horse, you know. You held me the whole ride back.”  
  
“Your knight in shining armour!” Sylvain’s grin is infectious even when he’s boasting.  
  
“That is absolutely atrocious I can’t believe you said something so cheesy. I should - Hey!” Sylvain grips his hips and pushes him back into his bedroll. That familiar jolt of warmth spreads from Felix’s ears down to his groin. The dark honey of his eyes above him reminds Felix of what he’s wanted. It isn’t just a physical desire to be touched, it’s the want to belong in the same place as Sylvain and share in this togetherness. To wake with him. To love him and grow and build this from the ground up. 

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius, I do believe you’re becoming a romantic.” Sylvain leans down to kiss him again, sighing against his skin and he mouths his name. The sensation makes Felix’s back arches, growing half-hard as his body betrays his mind. “You still need to say you’re sorry.”  
  
“I’m sorry. Now will you get off me before we do something stupid?”

Sylvain’s lips twitch into a smirk. “I didn’t say we had to move fast, you know. I just wanted to kiss you more.”

Felix lets him. Of course he does, because now that he’s opened that door and let Sylvain in he doesn’t want to close it. They lay on Felix’s bedroll and he loses himself in the way their explore with their mouths, trying to find the way they fit most comfortably. There’s more to talk about, Felix understands that. What stretches between them is a vast web they’ll have to untangle bit by bit a little more each day. For now, this is something. It’s fragile and comforting - new and old and blooming like the fresh wound of a red kiss. “Stay with me, Sylvain… Just stay.” Sleep is easier to find when the warmth creeps in.

\---

_“Have you heard the legend of the Goddess Tower? That if you make a pledge, it will be fulfilled? Childish, I know. But if it were true... Let's make a pledge to the goddess.”_

\---

The second week in Fhirdiad is the first time anyone asks about Sylvain. Mercedes and Dimitri had both happily commented on how it was good to see them training again, though in this case training was mostly Felix mercilessly forcing Sylvain to pick up his proper lance training again, resulting in several sessions Sylvain had called a ‘brutal ass beating’. It was promptly followed by sneaking away to the weapons room to kiss and slowly strip down from their training armour. It’s Ingrid who asks when they got so close again and why they’re always sneaking off after dinner.

“Are you finally getting over your fear of riding horses?”  
  
Felix doesn’t spare a glance to Sylvain by the stables when she asks. “Yes. We’ll be riding North soon. I have to attend to territory affairs at the estate and the Margrave wants Sylvain home before we take up a semi-residence here.” It isn’t that they’re hiding things, it just isn’t the right time yet. What they are is still something fragile enough it could shatter.

Ingrid raises a brow but nods after a moment. “By the way I had the blacksmith handle your request. It should be ready tonight. Are you really sure?”

“Glenn’s sword was too damaged to really use. And my father’s…” Felix takes a pause. “It seems fitting I should wield something made from what they left behind. It’s time to move forward.” His hands slide across his sword belt, still in the habit of it even when dressed down to tunic and slacks. “I have this image of Glenn, still. This… determination and kindness. But being back here reminds me of how he used to pick fights with the guards and join tournaments without permission from our father. That time he punched Miklan out and had to face a combat trial to determine if he was to be removed from service.”  
  
“Miklan did sort of deserve it.”  
  
“I’ve held onto the idea of surpassing him for a long time. I think… I think I’m ready to find my own road to walk. This sword is a start.” Felix catches the way Ingrid’s lips twitch and he frowns. “Oh goddess, don’t cry I hate when -”

Ingrid only lays a hand on his arm and smiles. “It’s good to see you again, Felix.”

He and Sylvain spend the evening training and reviewing the orders for Dimitri, all the while discussing the best route up North. It’s a lie that Sylvain is going home - he has every intention of staying with Felix for a few weeks to help him sort the affairs in the estate. Sylvain brings Felix’s favourite potato filled pastries to his room and sprawls over his bed reading Dimitri’s correspondences with his shirt riding up and his hair pleasantly tousled. No knight has any business looking so handsome doing nothing and yet Sylvain continues to prove Felix wrong. 

“Can you please explain why Dimitri needs us to order so much bedding? And… cheese?”

“Most of the bedding was packed away when nobles stopped having their sons living here for the royal guard. A lot of it is moth eaten or just outdated and falling apart.” Felix signs off on a request for allies to his territory for temporary residence. “I’m rather certain that strong cheese and black coffee are the only things he can taste.” He looks over at Sylvain from his desk and his eyes trail over the lines of his bare stomach and the strip of hair that dips below his waistband to -

“You’re staring.” Sylvain cocks a brow as he tips his head upside down off the bed. “I’m so worn out from all this very hard paperwork and I think we should just get right to kissing.”

“Are you sixteen? All you want to do is kiss.”  
  
“I like kissing you. I’m courting you, right?”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Felix stands and steps closer, sighing when he reaches down to stroke his fingers along Sylvain’s jaw. “Courtship, hm? So, you intend to behave?” He places a knee on the bed by Sylvain’s shoulder and admires the soft flush on his cheeks and how it brings out the slight freckling across his nose. Sylvain takes the hand on his jaw and kisses Felix’s fingertips, taking his index finger into his mouth to give it a teasing lick. “That is… not behaving.

It’s not that Felix hasn’t thought about sex. It’s more that there’s been very few people he’s felt like having sex with. His attraction to Sylvain has always been the one fantasy he’s indulged in, having spent far too many nights touching himself wondering what it would be like to be under him. Fucked by him. The way he looks now sends a jolt down to his groin and he groans. “Sylvain… You’re a real bastard.” A soft moan escapes him and Felix moves to sit next to him. “Stay.”

Sylvain’s eyes widen and he props himself up on one elbow. “Are you sure?” He knows what Felix is asking. “What if we get caught?”  
  
“It’s _my _room and I can do what - and who - I want in it.” Felix leans in to meet Sylvain’s kiss when he sits up. “I want this. Glenn would tell me to follow this. Ingrid would probably tell me to be romantic… say something nice like how much I love you.” He catches Sylvain’s lips as they form into an ‘o’ of surprise. “Which, for the record, I do.” 

For a moment they’re teenagers again watching the sunset and planning a future, and Felix is captivated by the bright eyes of the boy he’s loved in a way he’s only imagined exists in stories. Their hands brush in promise and this time Felix leans in and lets his mouth bleed all the words he’s wanted to say and all the ones he ever will. Sylvain’s mouth is hungry on his own, demanding anything he’s willing to give and taking it without hesitation. His hands are exploring his shoulders and undoing his shirt while his thigh presses between his legs. “I love you, Felix,” he murmurs.

He’s perfect in the way he slides his lips over Felix’s pulse point and whispers his name over his skin as if it’s too sacred even for the ears of the Goddess. Felix’s shirt is undone, and Sylvain is taking his time to slide it down his arms, seemingly unaware of how his thigh continues to rub against the front of Felix’s pants. His lips part and he sighs Sylvain’s name before pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle a moan. “Damnit.”  
  
“Does that mean I win?” Sylvain draws back and licks his lower lip. His eyes roam over Felix’s exposed chest and he sighs somewhat dramatically. “I have to confess, Felix… I’m starting to think I might like men.”  
  
“You’re an idiot.” But between everything they’ve done and how Sylvain says it as casually as he would about a new food he likes, Felix finds himself laughing - really laughing. The sound sends a wide over Sylvain’s face and he moves forward to pin Felix back, mouth pressed tight to his own as he swallows his laugh with a kiss that turns Felix’s knees weak.  
  
“Saints, you’re sort of perfect you know that?”

“Even when I call you a good-for-nothing?”

“Even when you call me a good-for-nothing.”

Sylvain stands despite Felix’s huff of protest and waves a hand. “I’m just locking the door. And do you have some oils?”

Felix removes his shirt and motions to the basin where he keeps oils for his hands and body. “Have you done this with a man before?” He pauses to take in the way Sylvain’s back looks in the low light. “You look good.” He sits up on his knees and pulls Sylvain over by his belt loops to kiss up the center of his chest. 

“You’ll be the first.” He cups his hand under Felix’s chin and leans in to kiss him again. “I don’t want to rush this, you know… being with you is different. He presses his forehead against Felix’s shoulder and trails his hands lazily over his sides. “I’ve just… never really wanted to be with someone like this. I don’t feel…” He trails off and lifts his face to look at Felix. His eyes are open and the gentleness is nearly disarming. “I love you. I’m not angry or ashamed or afraid of this.”

“I never want you to feel that. Not when you’re with me.” Felix tugs him back down and wraps his arms around his neck. “Promise me, Sylvain. Promise me we’re together until the end.”  
  
“Haven’t I promised it enough? I’m happy to say it again but do you believe it?” He presses his thumb again Felix’s lower lip and studies his face with admiration. “Or do I just have to fuck you until you believe it?”

If Felix were standing, he thinks that might have made his knees weak. The husky rasp to his voice and the way his hands cup his skin. Sylvain’s other hand is on his belt and opening the buckle while his lips carve a path over his jaw. It’s wholly unfair how attractive he is and how he knows all the places that Felix wants to be kissed. His fingers work to shimmy his trousers off while Felix returns the action of undressing Sylvain. His tunic slips off and his belt opens while the two of them fall back on the sheets in a mess of limbs. Sylvain reaches up to undo the tie in Felix’s hair and leaves a trail of red kisses down his neck, his other hand pushing down the remaining fabric between them.

Felix hisses when he feels Sylvain’s hard length press against his thigh. “Fuck,” he mutters, licking his lips and moving backwards on the bed to pull him close. He wants this closeness… he craves it the way thirst demands water. Sylvain’s hands are on him, stroking him and touching him and -

The summons bells ring and Felix, always one to be composed and collected, grabs the nearest pillow and launches it at the door. “Are you joking? Dimitri you son of a bitch.” Felix presses a hand over his mouth and tries to calm his racing heart, but he jolts when he feels a slick hand circle him. “Sylvain…!”  
  
“He can wait five minutes.” Sylvain strokes him and nudges the hand away from his lips to kiss him. “I want to see you come first. Then we can go beat his ass.”

“Can we not talk about Dimitri’s ass while you’re giving me a handjob?” Felix rolls his hips into Sylvain’s hand and groans. “Shit…” Sure, he’s touched himself before in the privacy of his own room but it’s another sensation completely to have Sylvain’s hand touching him like this. His thumb circles the sensitive head and he knows just how to drag his palm over him in a way that makes his hips twitch and arch. There’s a knock on the door but Felix doesn’t give it any attention when he brings his mouth to Sylvain’s and feels that hot coil snap and unfurl between his hips. Sylvain strokes him through his orgasm and tongues his mouth open to steal the soft moans he can’t help from escaping him.

“Beautiful.” Sylvain kisses his jaw. 

“Let me return the favour after this meeting.” Felix tries to calm his breathing as Sylvain stands to get their discarded clothes. “Assuming I don’t kill Dimitri.”

“Me first. I hope we’re talking about finances, it’s such a turn off.” He tugs his pants on and grumbles while trying to make it look like he isn’t hard underneath his trousers. “I’ll go ahead and let them know you’re coming. Clean up and maybe I’ll let you steal a kiss.” He smiles and tugs his shirt on. “You look really good right now… I don’t want to go.” 

Felix laughs and sits up, his stomach covered and his breathing returning to normal. “Next time, pretty boy.” He watches Sylvain slip out the door after checking to see if anyone is there. When the door closes, Felix stands to clean up and re-dress. As he belts his trousers, he finds himself… blushing. Sylvain hadn’t hesitated. He wanted Felix to feel good. Smiling, Felix touches his lips and lets the taste linger for a moment before he grabs his coat and heads out to meet with the rest of the council.

The smell of orange peel lingers on his collar and Felix thinks, just for a moment, that it’s a smell he wants to know for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest apologies for the delay. I've been so caught up in midterms and research papers and dealing with a health scare. I've also heavily re-worked where I want this story to go so it may end up more than the initial plan for 3 Chapters.
> 
> As always I hope you've enjoyed and I will do my best to update soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I will do my best to update as quickly as I can, but as a full-time student in my final stretch I often have readings and papers on my plate. Most of the work in finished so with any luck it won't be too long.
> 
> Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoyed the beginning of this!


End file.
